I wrote this post three months ago, and meant to write a follow-up since then. I am not dismissing the importance of “magical moments” in our lives; they are important for happiness. And I agree that they can be very “uneventful.” For example, one of my most treasured memories is a moment when Boris was waiting for me outside the Orchestra Hall in Saint Petersburg, and when he saw me (it was still time when his vision was good enough to recognize me from a distance), his facial expression and body language were such that an older lady standing by him waiting for her party smiled. Or the one when we walked down the street in Moscow, and a man walking in the opposite direction said loudly: Look how much she loves you! I also understand that anybody would be happy with a surprise gift or a lovely message but I do not understand why these things might be more important than everything else, and I understand even less why the absence of something might be “magical.”
I think that the best thing that happened in my life was that for the past thirty-six years, I was with one person, and we shared all aspects of our lives and no matter how many differences we had and still have, we are there for each other.
Boris says there must be some cultural and historical context for my mom’s beliefs, and I tend to agree with him. I remember that as a teen and young adult, I loved the concept of a “have to be a strong woman.” One of the “bard” songs that I loved ended with the following verse:
You paint the sky blue, and you paint the rocks grey,
and then you paint men always strong, and women for sure weak.
But the sky is blue only sometimes, and those that are gey are not rocks,
so you have to be strong while you long to be weak.
I mentioned in this blog multiple times that it was commonplace for a man to exhibit some grand gestures to win a woman’s heart, and it’s not cool to accept somebody’s courting until such grand gestures are made. “A woman should be treated with respect” included opening and holding the door, helping with getting in and out of the outdoor coat, pulling the chair, carrying anything heavier than a purse, and all other things that meant a woman was “treated like a princess.” At the same time, within the same mind frame, it was assumed that when you are married, you have to take care of all your husband’s needs; you cook and clean, wash and iron the clothes, and do most of the shopping. I want to reiterate that men didn’t refuse: we just never thought about asking for help, at least my married friends and I.
Possibly, it was something like, “You will never be treated like royalty after you are married, so make sure you are treated like this once in your life.” Or, it was a weird mixture of the pre-revolutionary upper-class and lower-class household patterns.
I am left with the question, why did we believe we were “treated with respect.” We were not; presuming you are weak and must be assisted is not a sign of respect. Why did we rush to get married? Why did we rush to divorce? Why was a display of something more important than having actual feelings or help
It took me years to understand how wrong I was and even more years to internalize these ideas. And now, I need to come to terms with the fact that my mom is forever frozen in that historical mindset and not try to change it. Honestly, it might be OK with my mom, but when I hear the same nonsense from people my age or younger, I don’t know how to comment!
Hettie's Reflections 